In the midst of the impenetrable darkness, a murmur of distant memories echoed, each one a fragment suspended in the void. It was like peering into the abyss of a lake, where the depths held secrets both elusive and haunting.

Childhood memories, akin to wisps of ephemeral mist, lingered on the edges of perception. There was a sense of familiarity, yet the details remained tantalizingly out of reach, like trying to grasp a handful of sand slipping through your fingers.

As the darkness enveloped, the echoes of laughter, playground adventures, and the warmth of family dinners surfaced briefly. But they were mere glimpses, submerged in the abyss, elusive yet evocative. The shadows of forgotten friends, the taste of homemade treats, and the comforting lullabies danced at the periphery of consciousness.

It was a paradoxical experience — the more you tried to focus, the more the memories seemed to elude definition. The sensation was like navigating the depths of a dream,

A memory played.

Seated by the tranquil waters of a small, murky lake, a young child, Y/N, allowed their fingers to glide through the gentle current. Laughter of fellow children echoed in the air, blending with the playful scenes unfolding around them — some engaged in games, while others reveled in gleeful blunders.

Yet, amidst this joy, a peculiar thought tugged at Y/N's mind, and they couldn't help but vocalize it.

A strange child they are

It seems you can't control what you're saying

"Don't they feel unsafe? It's a forest, after all. Many things could happen,"

the words spilled out unconsciously, carried away by the whims of memory, a narrative they couldn't quite control.

The young companion seated beside Y/N, a face vaguely etched in their recollection, raised an intrigued eyebrow. Though this face lingered in the recesses of their mind, its details slipped away whenever they rose from slumber.

"Well... The forest is beautiful," the companion murmured with a hint of uncertainty. "And I have a feeling that it protects us," they added, dismissing Y/N's skepticism. "Though I agree with some of your worries."

A subtle nod marked the conclusion of their conversation, and Y/N shifted their gaze to the reflective surface of the lake. Within the blurry waters, a grayish blob swam into view. Doubt about it being a mere fish crept in, accentuated by its shadow. As the mysterious presence drew nearer, Y/N leaned down, feeling an inexplicable connection. Unbeknownst to them, their companion's warning yell was missed.

With a splash, Y/N found themselves submerged. The dark water of the lake welcomed them, revealing not only the ripples on the surface

but also the face that stared back — a reflection distorted by the watery depths.

You reached out

Light Peirced through the water as you gasped and opened your eyes,

Your hand was also reaching out to something

The sterile scent of the infirmary surrounded you as your hand instinctively reached for the bandaged gauze around your head. The throbbing pain served as a stark reminder of the recent events that had led you to this sterile sanctuary.

Sitting up on the infirmary bed, you groaned, the ache intensifying as you attempted to piece together the fragments of your memory. The room seemed to blur momentarily, and you squinted against the harsh light, trying to regain your bearings.

"What hap—" you began to utter the question, but the words caught in your throat as the flood of realization hit you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the gravity of the situation sank in. The gauze around your head, a tangible reminder of the fall, spoke of a story etched not only in your mind but also on your wounded flesh.

Ophelia

Earlier...

With Walden's urgent order still ringing in your ears, you ran, tears streaming down your face, fueled by the haunting image of the poor child, Ophelia. Colliding with an unsuspecting employee, you frantically yelled, "Help!" over and over again, the echoes of your pleas blending with the vivid memories of Ophelia's bloodied figure.

In a daze and shock, you continued to cry for help like a broken record, but in your current state, it seemed as if no one could comprehend your desperate cries. Time felt like an unyielding force, ticking away mercilessly.

Then, amidst the chaos, Julie's familiar and gentle voice cut through the cacophony. "Y/N...?" Her voice called to you, and you involuntarily shuddered. Stumbling like a person in a drunken stupor, you found your way to her, and she caught you in her embrace.

The dread in your heart grew, a nauseating sensation gnawing at your fragile heart. The pit in your stomach felt like a voracious black hole, devouring you alive. Tears streamed down your face as you choked out, "Julie... Ophelia... Julie..."

The concern in Julie's eyes deepened as she looked at you, and the inevitable question hung in the air, threatening to unravel the delicate bonds of the found family you had come to cherish. "Why...? What happened?" The words held the weight of the impending chaos that would break the fragile sanctuary of the found family.

Trembling, you took a step back, your vision blurring as you clung to the last fraying string of sanity and consciousness. In a soft whisper that transformed into a desperate scream, you uttered, "Ophelia..."

The words gained an edge of urgency as you cried out, "She's dead! Downstairs!" You knew if you hadn't forced the words out, they would have been lost in incoherent mumbles.

Julie's eyes widened in shock as the weight of your revelation struck her. She began to open her mouth, likely to ask something or offer consolation, but your senses faltered. The shock and grief sank in, threatening to drown you.

Amidst the turmoil, someone else joined the chaotic symphony of sounds, yelling for help. You were pretty sure it was Julie. As the world tilted and your strength gave way, you fell backward into the abyss of darkness, the overwhelming emotions consuming you.

With shaky hands, you lifted it up to your mouth and sobbed

On the sterile infirmary bed, you lay, body and spirit heavy with the weight of an unimaginable loss. The room, once filled with the clinical scent of antiseptics, now bore witness to the silent symphony of your grief.

Your sobs echoed in the cold walls, a haunting melody of pain and sorrow. Each teardrop that fell seemed to carry a piece of your shattered heart, splintering it further with every passing moment. The gauze around your head felt constricting, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil within.

Your cries were not just sounds; they were a lamentation, a desperate plea for a reality that refused to alter. The infirmary's sterility juxtaposed the rawness of your emotions, the tears staining your cheeks as a testament to the profound ache within.

The rhythm of your weeping ebbed and flowed, a tidal wave of anguish crashing against the shore of your vulnerability. The sheets beneath your trembling form bore witness to the silent struggle, cradling your brokenness with a clinical detachment that felt almost cruel.

Each gasp for air echoed the hollowness that had replaced the once vibrant spirit within you. The realization of Ophelia's absence weighed on your chest, a heavy burden threatening to drown you in the sea of despair. The room, a silent spectator, offered no solace as you grappled with the incomprehensible truth.

In that sterile space, your cries spoke a language only the wounded heart could understand. They echoed the depths of grief, resonating with the void left by the departed soul. The tears held within them the memories of laughter and shared moments, now transformed into poignant echoes of a time forever gone.

As you lay on the infirmary bed, tears flowed freely, a cathartic release of the emotions too profound for words. In the vulnerability of that moment, the sterile walls seemed to close in, an oppressive reminder of the unyielding reality that Ophelia, the child you knew, was no more.

Bent over the side of the infirmary bed, your body convulses with the intensity of your grief. The sobs that once racked your frame now escalate into a visceral, gut-wrenching cry. The pain is not just emotional but has manifested into a physical upheaval.

The sterile room becomes a witness to your body's rebellion, a response to the profound loss you've experienced. The gauze on your head feels suffocating as your cries mix with the sound of retching. The antiseptic smell of the room contrasts sharply with the bitter taste of sorrow rising in your throat.

Bending over, you vomited

Each heave is a desperate attempt to expel the anguish that seems to have taken residence within you. The waves of nausea come in tandem with the waves of grief, an involuntary purging of the overwhelming sorrow that has consumed you.

As you gasp for air between the cries and vomits, the harsh reality settles in. The physical and emotional pain intertwine, making it impossible to discern where one ends and the other begins. The act of throwing up becomes an unintentional expression of the heart-wrenching sorrow that engulfs you.

The infirmary, usually a place of healing, becomes a chamber for the expulsion of anguish. Your body's revolt mirrors the turmoil within, an uncontrollable response to the shattering of a world that once held the laughter of a child named Ophelia.

In this vulnerable moment, the stark reality of grief is laid bare. The room, silent and clinical, is now permeated with the echoes of your cries and the bitter taste of tears and sorrow.

Wiping the side of your mouth, you were thankful for the plastic bag beside your bed

In the aftermath of your intense bout of crying and vomiting, the curtain of your bed opens, Solaris stood with a solemn expression, you find a moment of solace in the presence of your co-worker, Solaris. As you sob into his shoulder, he attempts to provide some comfort amid the grief that hangs heavily in the air.

Between shaky breaths, Solaris softly explains that Walden, your boss, is not faring well. He's isolated himself in his office, shutting out everyone, even Julie. The worry in Solaris' voice adds another layer to the already somber atmosphere.

The news hits you like another wave of sorrow. Ophelia.

Solaris' next words cut through the heaviness in the room—Ophelia had a seizure, and the impact caused her to hit her head, resulting in the unsettling sight of blood.

Your sobs, momentarily softened by Solaris' presence, gain a renewed intensity. The weight of the situation, coupled with your own vulnerability, intensifies the pain. As you cling to Solaris for support.

In this moment of shared grief, his presence becomes a lifeline. The infirmary, once a place of healing, now bears witness to the anguish that has unfolded within its walls. The silent sorrow hangs in the air, with only the muffled sounds of your shared sorrow breaking the stillness.

The solemn silence of the infirmary lingers in the air as your friend quietly murmurs a wish for rest, leaving to collect his thoughts. Hours later, you find yourself numbly retracing your steps, a mechanical walk guided by muscle memory. The weight of grief presses on your shoulders, each step feeling heavier than the last.

As you approach your office, your gaze is involuntarily drawn to another scene—the one unfolding in front of Walden's office.

His eyes, once filled with authority and certainty, now reflect a haunting abyss of grief. Julie stands in a defensive stance, attempting to maintain a safe distance from his erratic movements.

The atmosphere is tense, and the air is thick with the palpable agony that has consumed Walden. His eyes, narrowed to slits, exude a kind of despair that borders on madness. In a moment of frenzy, he attempts to swipe at Julie, driven by a pain that refuses to be contained.

Fortunately, Solaris intervenes, his smaller stature belying the strength with which he holds Walden back. The feline features of Solaria wince as he bears the brunt of Walden's thrashing. The boss's hands claw desperately at the arms that restrain him, drawing blood that flows down to stain his shirt.

In the midst of this heart-wrenching scene, a realization dawns on you. The only course of action to spare everyone further pain is to help Walden find temporary relief from the anguish that threatens to consume him. With a heavy heart, you decide it's time to intervene, to temporarily silence the torment plaguing your grieving boss.

It feels cruel, almost inhumane, to subdue a mourning man who's drowning in loss. However, the potential for him to harm others and himself in this state outweighs the perceived cruelty of your actions.

In a moment of urgency, you raise your voice, barking orders to the terrified workers nearby. "Get me chloroform now!" Their wide-eyed expressions morph into a quick understanding, and they rush to fulfill your command.

With a sense of grim determination, you turn to Julie, exchanging looks of regret. There's a shared understanding between you—a recognition that this is a painful but necessary measure to prevent further suffering.

In a swift motion, you tear a part of your sleeve, the fabric fraying under the pressure of the situation. As the workers return with the chloroform, you take it from them with a firm grip,

The scent of chloroform permeates the air as you swiftly pour it onto the ripped cloth. Bracing yourself, you rush to Walden's side, determination etched on your face. The cloth is shoved right up to his face, hoping that the effects, though delayed by his enhanced body, will eventually take hold.

As the chloroform begins to work, Walden's eyes mirror his distress. His enhanced reflexes kick in, and his claws protract in a rapid and frenzied manner. The movements are too swift for the human eye to catch, and in the blink of an eye, he slashes through the air, leaving behind a thick, jagged line across your face.

The stinging pain is immediate, but you grit your teeth, focusing on the task at hand.

You felt the warmth of blood running down your face, the taste of iron on your lips as you gritted your teeth against the pain. Your left eye throbbed with each heartbeat, a casualty in your attempt to subdue Walden. Despite the physical toll, you kept one eye open, your gaze unwavering.

Julie took your place, holding the cloth in position, as you held Walden's arms down. It felt like an eternity, your focus persistent, your determination unyielding. Finally, the chloroform's effects began to take hold, a small reprieve in the midst of chaos.

Solaris, your courageous co-worker, restrained the grieving father. Solaris' smaller frame belied the strength he exerted, keeping Walden in check. The pain etched on Solaris' face, the blood marking his arms, painted a poignant picture of the tragedy unfolding before you. A father wrestling with the unbearable weight of loss.

The impact reverberated with a dull thud. As Walden's eyes rolled back, his body went limp in Solaris' grasp. The room descended into an eerie silence, broken only by heavy breaths and quiet sobs. The decision, born out of necessity, lingered heavily in the air—a desperate attempt to calm the tempest of emotions threatening to consume Walden and everyone around him. In that profound stillness, the weight of your actions settled in, a stark reminder of the unforgiving reality that had unfolded within the factory's walls.

Walden was then laid on a bed later on, leaving Julie with him, you left to your office

Your office, usually a place of productivity and routine, became a sanctuary for your grief. Standing in silence, the weight of the recent events pressed down on you until the dam broke once more. With your back to the door, you hugged yourself tightly, the sobs escaping without restraint.

In the solitude of your office, the flood of emotions overwhelmed you. The echoes of Ophelia's laughter during her birthday celebration haunted your thoughts. What if those seemingly happy moments were the deceptive calm before the storm? The uncertainty of the future for this once-sound family weighed heavily on your mind.

Three members of this close-knit family were now visibly breaking, each grappling with their pain in their own way. The air in your office became thick with sorrow, and the questions about what lay ahead lingered, unanswered and unsettling. The facade of joy that had adorned the factory now shattered, leaving behind a somber reality that no one had anticipated.

One question lingered.. . .

Why....?

Prologue end...

In the aftermath of the tumultuous events, you approached Solaris, his bandaged arms a visible testament to the struggle that had unfolded. As you began to speak, intending to offer some words of comfort or understanding, he cut you off sharply.

"Don't," Solaris cut you off, his tone sharp and snide, yet his body language revealed the weariness beneath. His feline ears drooped, and he avoided meeting your gaze, his shaky arms telling a story of pain and exhaustion.

You knew Solaris well enough to recognize the signs. The crimson hue of his bandaged arms spoke of a recent struggle. As you began to address him, he shut you down with a curt "Don't." The weariness in his voice mirrored the shadows in his eyes.

For a moment, Solaris repeated the word, each utterance softer than the last. "Don't." It was as if the weight of the recent events had taken a toll on him, leaving behind an exhausted and broken version of the usually playful and dramatic co-worker. The silence that followed spoke louder than any words could convey.

Prolouge end

Author notes:  I lost the story thrice because of wattpad crashing

The actual story would unfold later on

Thank you

Depiction of Solaris by me